


Safeguard

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Competence Kink, Fan Art, Idiots in Love, Iguanas, Intrigue, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Other, Romance, Sigils, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Top Crowley (Good Omens), clever Aziraphale (Good Omens), clever Crowley (Good Omens), disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Aziraphale runs, out of the back room of his bookshop, a very small rescue for abandoned iguanas. One day, he finds a cat carrier on his front step. Inside is a snake with a note that says, ambiguously: 'Safeguard.'"So I saw a beautiful piece ofart by Jane Westin, and we worked out an exchange of a fic for a pic! This was also written for the Ineffable Husbands Week (NSFW) 2020 prompt: "body," because I am multi-tasking. I had no idea where this was going at first, so hopefully you will not either, my dear readers. Although, as you know, I enjoy shenanigans and smut, so you will find those for sure.Also, I did not actually intend to put the art that I traded for into this fic, but it ended up fitting quite nicely, so that was lovely.UPDATE: Jane has drawn more art for this fic! Look for the link in Chapter 3. 💕
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 447
Kudos: 579
Collections: NSFW Ineffable Husbands Week 2020, The Snake Pit





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janewestin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janewestin/gifts).



The note read “Safeguard.”

Aziraphale looked at it curiously. He’d been heading out to lunch when he’d found this odd package on the back doorstep of his bookshop: a cat carrier with a note taped to it. 

Aziraphale assumed there was an iguana in the carrier. This was because in addition to running a bookshop, he had a small rescue operation for abandoned iguanas in his back room. It might have seemed an odd mix: a collection of books that needed dry, cool air, housed near a room full of reptiles who needed things rather hot and humid. But as it happened, the rooms kept their preferred environments quite to themselves, because Aziraphale wished them to.

The funny thing was—well, this was somewhat down the list of funny things at this point—there was not, in fact, an iguana in the carrier. When Aziraphale opened the door to the cage in his back room, instead of a green lizard, he found a four-foot-long black snake.

“Well!” Aziraphale said. “Aren’t you lovely?” And to his delight, the snake slithered right out of the carrier and onto his table, scenting the air with his tongue.

Aziraphale’s delight faded when he realized the snake was leaving a little wavering trail of blood behind him. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you fixed right up.” Aziraphale extended a hand toward the snake, letting a little golden glow stretch out from his palm. What was supposed to happen was that Aziraphale’s angelic magic would gently and painlessly heal the snake.

What did happen was that the snake reared up, hissed, bit Aziraphale’s hand, causing the angel to cry out in surprise, and then shot back into the carrier. When Aziraphale peered into the carrier (keeping his distance this time), two bright yellow eyes stared back at him in fear.

“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I didn’t realize. It seems you’ve been injured by a holy weapon. I’m afraid I can’t heal that as easily as I’d like.”

The snake said, in a low and rather hissy voice, “You’re an  _ angel.” _

“Oh!” Aziraphale replied. “And you’re a  _ talking _ snake.”

“No—” the snake gave him what seemed to be a sarcastic look. “I’m a demon.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale gave a little laugh. “That would make more sense, I suppose. Well, if you come back out, my dear, and let me have another look at your wound, I might be able to make a better start.”

The snake stared at him in suspicion. “Why would you heal a demon?”

“Well, the note on your carrier says ‘Safeguard.’” Aziraphale pointed to the paper, still hanging from the wire door.

The snake’s yellow eyes held a bit of disbelief now. He certainly had an expressive face for a snake. Probably the demon in him. “Do you always follow random notesss that show up with random snakesss?” he inquired.

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale assured him. “Only when they’re in my own handwriting. Ah, the note, that is, you know, the note is in handwriting. Not you, you’re not in—”

“It’sss in your handwriting?” the snake interrupted.

“Yes.”

“But you don’t remember writing it?”

“Not at all.”

“That’sss...odd.”

“I quite agree. So how did you end up on my doorstop?” Aziraphale asked.

“No idea.”

“Well, do you know how you got in the carrier then?”

“Can’t remember anything from the last few daysss.”

The angel looked at him in sympathy. “Ah. You may have been unconscious. The wound, you know.”

The snake’s gaze softened a bit. “Did I hurt you?”

Aziraphale remembered the bite on his hand now and he cleared it away. “Only a little, and it was my fault. There wasn’t anything else you could have done to protect yourself.” Aziraphale beckoned to him gently with his healed hand. “Won’t you come out? I promise you, you can trust me.”

The snake stayed where he was.

“My dear, I know  _ I’d _ feel a lot better if I could make you a little more comfortable. Obviously, so would you.” When the snake still didn’t move, Aziraphale sighed. “Please?”

For whatever reason, that final entreaty seemed to do the trick, and the snake-demon began to slither back out of his cage.

“Turn over a little, please,” Aziraphale instructed, and the snake obliged, inverting his tail. He had a lovely pink underbelly, except where there was a large ugly scar in black and gold. Aziraphale didn’t bring his hands near now, but he did put on his glasses and lean closer.

“Yes, it’s a holy wound,” he said. “Someone tried to smite you, looks like. I think we should—”

“Why are you wearing glassessss?” the snake interrupted.

Aziraphale blinked at him through them. “What?”

“If you’re an angel, you don’t need glassesss, your vision is perfect.”

“Clearly, you have no concept of human accessories,” Aziraphale said reproachfully. “You are a snake, after all.”

“I’m not always a snake. Sometimes I’m a human too. Just not right now. Can’t switch.”

“Oh, I see. Well, no, you’d be too injured for that.” Aziraphale finished his inspection of the wound. “I can heal you, I think, but not all at once, I don’t think you’d tolerate it well.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

Aziraphale was folding his (extremely fashionable) glasses away. “What do you mean, trouble?” he asked.

“Doubt Heaven would approve of an angel helping a demon.”

“Ah. Well, I wasn’t exactly planning to put it in a report,” Aziraphale confessed.

The snake seemed almost to laugh at that. “All right, angel.” He cocked his head a little, tasting the air with his tongue again. “What’ssss your name?”

“Aziraphale. Principality. Former Guard of the Eastern Gate of Eden. And you?”

“It’s Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley. Wait, you were in Eden?”

“I was.”

_ “I  _ was in Eden. I was there to tempt—well, never mind. It’s odd, though, Eden wasn’t that big. You’d think we would have crossed pathssss.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said. “I’m afraid I’ve always been quite a loner. Just me, my books, and recently, a few iguanas. I’m not much for making friends.”

“Well, I don’t think we’d have been friendssss,” the snake said tactfully.

“Oh. Yes, quite.” Aziraphale felt a sudden pain in his chest, and wasn’t sure why. “Well, my dear,” he said softly. “If you’ll allow me…”

“Go ahead.” The snake held his tail still. Aziraphale framed it gently between his hands, careful not to actually touch him, and let a little ethereal magic come free. But instead of pushing it toward the wound, he pulled, drawing holy energy back out of it. Crowley hissed very loudly, but he didn’t move. Aziraphale put his hands down after a moment, afraid to do much more.

“How is that?” he asked.

Crowley moved his tail carefully. “Better. Bleeding’s stopped.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s a little less.”

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Well, then, let’s get you situated. Fortunately, I have an empty enclosure right now as Wilde got adopted this morning. Lucky him, he’d only been here a couple of days. I only really started this iguana business last week—”

The snake tilted his head a little and stared at him. “Why would you name a captive iguana  _ ‘Wild’?” _

“What? Oh, no, no, like the author. Oscar Wilde. I knew him.” Aziraphale frowned. “I think. It’s hard to remember everything, you know.”

Crowley hissed a little. “Never liked him.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Just—just didn’t, I suppose.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” Aziraphale indicated the empty enclosure. “It’s all clean, and I’ll get you some fresh bedding and water. There’s a heat lamp, of course. And these are your neighbors, Freddie and Mercury.” He pointed to a couple of very large green iguanas, who had been watching the process from their perches. “Freddie’s about six, and—”

The snake definitely did laugh this time. “Guess I should have expected that from an angel who dresses all in black and puts that much product in his hair. Naming your iguanas for the lead singer of  _ Queen.  _ You’re an interesting one, that’s for sure.”

Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, for whom?”

“Freddie Mercury.  _ Bohemian Rhapsody?” _

Aziraphale shook his head, looking down at his clothes. They seemed perfectly normal to him. Maybe the trousers were a  _ bit  _ snug, but—

“Well, why’d you name them that, then?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t know. Just names, I suppose. Here, do you want to crawl in or shall I lift you?”

“Go on, then.”

The snake’s scales were cool and soft against Aziraphale’s hands, and the angel was almost reluctant to let him go when they got to the enclosure. Unfortunately, letting go became immediately necessary when there was a loud buzzing noise and the floor shook slightly, rattling the cages.

Aziraphale looked down at the snake in a bit of panic.  _ “Hide,”  _ he said.

“Why?” the snake asked.

“I don’t know. Just, please—”

“Yeah, all right.” Crowley slithered under the substrate at the bottom of the cage and disappeared.

Aziraphale tore the note off of the cat carrier and stuck it in his pocket, and then hurried into the front room. There was an archangel there, standing among the shelves, looking disdainful and very tall. He fixed bright purple eyes on Aziraphale.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said politely. “What a pleasure to see you.”

“You as well!” Gabriel exclaimed, and then he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What in Heaven are you wearing?”

Aziraphale took a moment to answer that, because he’d still been absent-mindedly keeping the list of odd occurrences in his head, and this visit by Gabriel made an immediate addition. The problem was, there were two sources of input available to Aziraphale at the moment. One was his eyes. There stood Gabriel, his superior, frequent visitor to the bookshop, looking as kind and harmless as always. The other was Aziraphale’s feelings, and they told quite a different story. Aziraphale was absolutely terrified to find Gabriel in the shop.

Aziraphale looked down at his clothes and frowned a little. “Oh?” he asked, in his best imitation of a normal voice. “Is it too much? I never can quite keep up with human fashion. I’m afraid I asked someone in the neighborhood for advice. He was quite adamant that I attempt this look. I tried to tell him—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Gabriel interrupted. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Helps you blend in.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“So what have you been up to?”

“Not much. Reading.”

“Mmm.” Gabriel began to stride through the shop, peering in between the shelves, taking a strangely quick and zig-zaggy route. Eventually he got to the back room. “What’s this? Lizards?”

Aziraphale hastened to catch up with him. “Oh, I just read the  _ most  _ interesting book, Gabriel. It was rather a scientific tome, but it really increased my admiration for iguanas. They’re such fascinating creatures that I decided to make a study of them myself! I can loan it to you if—”

“What about snakes?” Gabriel asked sharply.

Aziraphale stared at him. “I’ll thank you not to mention that word here,” he said firmly. He beckoned Gabriel out of the back room. “Horrible things,” he whispered.  _ “They eat iguanas.” _

Gabriel gave a big, booming laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fond of those slimy, ah, crawly things either.” He looked at Aziraphale carefully for a moment, and Aziraphale didn’t know what else to do but look back. Then Gabriel grinned. “Well, I’ll let you get on with your day then, Aziraphale.”

Gabriel disappeared. Aziraphale stayed in the front of the shop until he felt like he could walk without shaking too much. When he got into the back room, he met a pair of yellow eyes looking at him through the open cage door. “I’m not going to eat your iguanassss, angel. Look, they’re not even scared of me.”

“I know, dear. You’re too small.”

Crowley watched him in silence for a moment, and then got a rather impressed look on his face. “So did you just spend the last ten minutes lying off your arse to the Archangel Gabriel? Was any of what you said true?”

When Aziraphale didn’t answer, Crowley crawled onto a rock and rested his head on his coils. “You’re quite clever, aren’t you?” he asked.

Aziraphale looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“No, don’t do that. You’re hiding it. You don’t have to hide it from me. So do you want to fill me in on why you trust me and not another angel?”

“Do you know,” Aziraphale asked, “that there are wards on this shop that hide demons?”

“There are?”

Aziraphale nodded. “On your carrier there, too. That’s why I didn’t know at first that you were anything more than a snake. They’re not for me, though. I honestly mean you no harm, my dear.”

Crowley’s voice was soft. “I know.”

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Please get some rest, then. I have a little reading to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Principality Aziraphale had a nice arse. Crowley hadn’t really meant to notice that, but there was no hiding it in those tight trousers. Crowley had slept the night away in the enclosure in the back room, and then he’d come out into the bookshop proper around breakfast time. The angel had greeted him with a smile, and then had gone back to what he had been doing, which looked like a lot of looking for books, reading books, making notes from books, and frowning. 

Crowley had been lounging on the couch and looking at the angel’s arse, wondering if perhaps when he regained his human form, Aziraphale might have a similar opinion about Crowley’s arse. Which was a very odd thing for a demon to wonder, but it wasn’t really Crowley’s fault, as the rest of the angel was similarly appealing. Blond curls slicked back into quite a modern style, glowing where the bookshop lights caught them. A black shirt with a V-neck low enough to show off just a hint of light blond hair on Aziraphale’s chest, and a black blazer over that, with a red collar. And the tight trousers. The angel was well-padded, with curves everywhere, and with those stupid little glasses—he looked absolutely delicious.

“Were you ever in Parisss?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale didn’t look up from his book. “Many times.”

“Like when, specifically?”

Aziraphale started rattling off dates, and Crowley stopped him when he got to 1793. “I was there then too. The Reign of Terror.” He suddenly felt a pang of fear. “I didn’t—it wasn’t my doing. The humans thought it up themselves, I swear.” Crowley had never admitted that to anyone. It certainly wouldn’t be good if Hell found that out, since Crowley had claimed credit for the entire thing. But he found himself terrified that this angel would think badly of him.

Aziraphale was poking about on a shelf now. “Oh, I’m sure, my dear,” he said, quite as if he meant it.

Crowley let out a sigh that was, of course, a hiss. “How about New York?” he asked. It turned out that some dates matched up there too, and a few other places.

“Here’s the thing,” Crowley said. “We’ve been on Earth, both of us, for 6000 yearsss. In the same place at the same time over and over. What are the oddsss that we never ran into each other?”

Aziraphale hummed a little, absorbed in his work.

“Here’sss the other thing,” Crowley said, a little louder, and with a little more irritation. “I can’t remember ever doing anything fun in my entire life. No escapadesss, no adventuresss, no getting thrown out of a pub with your drunken best friend. Does that sound like a demon’ssss life to you?”

Aziraphale shot him an amused look. “It should be. Fruit of your evil labors, you know. It’s not supposed to be fun to be a demon.”

“Oh, shut it,” Crowley groused. “Look, the point isss, something’s going on here. We both know it. I don’t know what you’re doing with all your booksss, but I think a good place to start would be to figure out what angel gave me this blasted wound. Do you think it was Gabriel?”

Aziraphale shut his book and looked at Crowley over his glasses. “No,” he said lightly. “I’m fairly certain it was me.”

Crowley reared back a little. “What?”

“And,” Aziraphale went on, “seeing as we're not afraid of each other, I imagine it was consensual.”

Crowley stared at him. “What, you mean like it was a sex thing?”

Aziraphale looked confused for a second, and then his face blazed bright red. _“Oh._ I’m sure it—” He coughed. “Well, I suppose I don’t actually know the, ah, circumstances under which—” Aziraphale made a motion to tug at the collar of his shirt, but as the collar was open, his fingers just seemed to fidget in space.

Crowley took pity on him. “Relax, angel. What have you been doing over there all night?”

Aziraphale looked at the book in his hands and blinked. “Oh. Yes. I’ve been deciphering a message.”

“From who?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows did a delightful little wiggle. “From me, as it turns out.”

“You wrote a coded message to yourself?”

“A _book cipher,”_ the angel said, as if it were the most exciting thing in the world. Of course, he was even more attractive all passionate like this. Crowley was suddenly glad that snakes couldn’t blush.

“All right, I’ll bite. Or—no, won’t do that again, sorry. Anyway, book code. How doessss it work?”

“It’s a very simple system,” Aziraphale explained. “It only has one layer of encryption, numbers for letters. The reason that it’s hard to crack is because it’s based on a book, and both parties have to have the exact same book in their possession. Not even different editions of the same book, the pages have to be exactly the same. Now, of course, this is simpler, because it’s a message from me to me, and so it only involves the one book.”

“A book in your shop. Okay, I think I’m with you so far.”

Aziraphale leaned forward in his eagerness, showing a little more of his chest. Crowley tried not to be too obvious about looking. He couldn’t wear sunglasses in snake form, unfortunately. 

“So, say you want to encode the word _snakes,_ for example,” Aziraphale said. “Once you have the right page of the right book, you look for the first word on the page that starts with the letter S. Let’s say the fifth word on the page is ‘see.’”

“So you write down the number 5.”

“Yes. And then you start over at the top of the page and find the first word that begins with N. When you get to the second S in the word _snakes,_ you look for the second word on the page starting with S. That’s all there is to it. And then at the end of the message, you encode a clue to the name of the next book to look at and which page to use.” The angel pointed to a bookshelf. “Now, earlier this week, I noticed a couple of odd things around the bookshop. A book was misfiled—”

“You have a filing system for this messsss?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale’s blue eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, right, continue,” Crowley said.

“There was also this,” Aziraphale said. “I found it on a bottle of wine yesterday.” He held up a note. “It says _‘To drink in a darkened age.’_ I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, certainly didn’t remember writing it. And then, there was this, sitting on my desk with my taxes.” The angel held up a second note with a large series of numbers on it. “It’s meaningless, though, or so I thought.”

“That’s the cipher.”

“Yes. I didn’t put it all together until you arrived, but then it was obvious.”

“Obvious how?”

“Because this is the book that was misfiled.” Aziraphale held it up, with a delighted smile: _The Safeguard of the Sea: A Naval History of Britain 660-1649._

“Safeguard.”

Aziraphale nodded. “The note on your carrier. And there’s a map partway through the book called ‘ _The British Isles in the Dark Ages.’”_

“The note on the wine told you what page to use.”

“Exactly. If you start right under the map, the code works. I’ve been following it all night from book to book.”

“All right. That’s...impressive. What doessss it say?”

Aziraphale sat down on the couch next to Crowley. He was warm, especially in those black trousers, and Crowley really couldn’t be blamed if he pressed up against his thigh a little, could he? “This is the first bit,” the angel said.

The page read:

5 102 69 12 16 8 6 31

And beneath it, the angel had written

T R U S T H I M

Crowley looked up at him. “‘Trust him.’ It meanssss me?”

“Superfluous, really,” Aziraphale said softly. “I already did.” He gave Crowley a hesitant smile.

“We were friendssss.”

“Well—the rest of the message is: _Your memories were taken by Heaven and Hell as punishment for averting Armageddon. There are sigils hidden on your bodies. Don’t break them until you have a way to hide._ And it ends, _Don’t let them win.”_

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. “What the absolute fuck?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Quite.”

“We—we did what?”

Aziraphale gave him a nervous smile. “Committed treason, apparently.”

Crowley hadn’t really minded being a snake up to this point, but now he desperately wished he had arms so that he could pull the angel into a reassuring embrace. Unfortunately, the injury prevented him from shifting. Oh, but _that_ suddenly made a lot more sense. “It’ssss hiding me, isn’t it?” he asked. “The wound.”

Aziraphale nodded. “It’s covering your demonic essence with something holy. The demon-hiding wards protect you in the carrier and the shop, but outside of those, Gabriel and whoever else would be able to sense you.” Aziraphale looked at him with such a sadness in his eyes that it made Crowley’s heart ache.

“We must have gotten wind of it, what they were planning,” Aziraphale said, “and so we set this all up, the iguana rescue in my back room, the cipher, you arriving. There’s very little magic in it, probably so that we could fly under the radar.”

“How long has it been?”

“About a week, I should think. I remember the last couple of days very clearly, Wilde getting adopted, my finding the misfiled book. Things before that are a little hazy, and a little—”

 _“Off._ My memories are too. Plus I think I’ve been unconscious a while.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I imagine we set it up for some human to care for you for a few days and then deliver you to my door. The iguanas must have been our cover. Not snakes, you know, because that would have been too obvious.”

“Right. But not too strange that an iguana rescue might take in the occasional snake.”

Aziraphale frowned. “My dear, we need to figure this out soon. Your wound’s going to heal on its own before too long, and I don’t want to have to keep re-injuring you.”

“I don’t actually want to be a snake forever,” Crowley informed him.

A bit of a blush crossed Aziraphale’s cheeks again. “No, I should think—well, you must be more comfortable as a human.”

“Hang on, that’s a problem, though,” Crowley said. “If I’m here in hiding, where do Heaven and Hell think I am? Do they think I just disappeared?”

“As far as I can tell, my dear, you’re in Mayfair. I actually feel you more strongly there than I do here.”

“I’ve got a flat in Mayfair.”

“I think perhaps we should visit.”

“Looking like that?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale looked down at his clothes. “Why is everyone commenting on my clothes?”

Crowley hissed out a little laugh. “Your clothes are fine, angel. Quite, ah—quite nice, actually. I just meant that the Principality Aziraphale probably shouldn’t be seen hanging around my flat.”

oOo

A half hour later, Crowley sat coiled on the kitchen table and said, appreciatively, “You look like a nanny. But the naughty kind.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, look at you. All buttoned up in a tweed skirt and jacket, hair down around your shouldersss, and those heelsss. But no self-respecting nanny would wear her skirt so tight.”

Aziraphale frowned at him. Her voice was a little higher, and almost melodic. “I’m not applying for a job minding children, I’m taking a stroll through Mayfair.”

 _“Can_ you take a stroll in that?” Crowley asked, wondering if a snake could convey a sense of flirtation to a naughty nanny. And a bit nervous about why it seemed such an irresistible idea to flirt with an angel. “Better make the slit in that skirt a little higher,” he advised.

Aziraphale blushed pink and frowned at him. “When you have become a human again, _then_ you may give me fashion advice.”

“Fine,” Crowley conceded. “So how do I travel?”

Aziraphale waved her hand and produced a black handbag that matched her suit.

“Oh, no,” Crowley said. “I’m not getting put in a purse like a poodle. Just wind me round your neck under your collar there.”

“You said I’d stand out in Mayfair _without_ wearing a snake,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Well, put a scarf over me or something, tie a bow. Something tartan, maybe.”

 _“Tartan?”_ Aziraphale asked disdainfully.

“Tartan is stylish.”

Aziraphale crossed her arms, and it made one of the buttons on her chest pull a little tight. “Are you a human?” she asked, in precisely the sort of tone that you might expect from a naughty nanny.

Crowley was fascinated by watching the button strain against coming undone. “No,” he said.

“Then ought you to be giving fashion advice to humans?”

“No.”

“I think red will do nicely then,” Aziraphale said firmly.

“Yessss,” Crowley said, and he simply could not help adding, “Ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, the book cipher actually works (at least, the first part). Check this out! Like Aziraphale, I had way too much fun with this. 
> 
> [The Safeguard of the Sea: A Naval History of Britain 660-1649](https://www.amazon.com/Safeguard-Sea-History-Britain-660-1649-ebook/dp/B002XHNMMG/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=safeguard&qid=1580660526&s=books&sr=1-1) is a real book. It was the second result on Amazon under "Safeguard," and not only did it look like something that wouldn’t raise suspicion in Aziraphale’s shop, but you can look inside it! Perfect! So the first message, "Trust him" really does work. Turn pages until you find the map (The British Isles in the Dark Ages), and start just under it.
> 
> [Book cipher info](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_cipher) and [more book cipher info](https://www.drdobbs.com/security/the-book-cipher-algorithm/210603676)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration by Jane Westin of [Aziraphale in chapter 3](https://thejanewestin.tumblr.com/post/611774431593955328/aziraphale-as-depicted-in-ch3-of)

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if she’d ever worn a snake before, whether outwardly or under a red bow. It was one interesting question among so many. What she did know was that it felt quite nice to have cool scales draped around her neck (and _ahem,_ her upper chest, but she wasn’t focusing on that at the moment), not just because of the tactile sensation, but because it felt _right_ to have this demon so close. 

Crowley’s presence made Aziraphale feel brave, which was something for which she was quite grateful. In her memories—false ones, apparently—Aziraphale had always been alone. She could feel now that nothing had been further from the truth.

Crowley lived in a tall and quite lovely building, which did not surprise Aziraphale in the slightest. Standing outside, she could feel a very strong demonic essence that matched the faint one she could pick up from the snake curled round her neck.

Crowley had the penthouse, of course. As they took the lift up, Crowley poked his head out from under the red bow and repositioned himself on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You’re so warm,” he said appreciatively.

“Did you have a good journey, then?” Aziraphale asked.

“Angel, you can carry me around like thissss anytime.”

The lift opened and Aziraphale stepped into the hall, which was empty. But she could sense the demonic presence even more clearly now. 

“There are wards here,” Aziraphale said, as they neared the door. She put up her hands, feeling the magic in the air. “Anti-demon and anti-angel wards.”

“Meant to keep out the nosy, I expect.”

Aziraphale looked at the door curiously. “It really feels like you _are_ here. We must have put in a piece of you somehow, part of your essence.” She frowned. “But do they really think you’ve just been sitting in this flat day after day, for an entire week?”

Crowley laughed, and it came out as a hiss, of course. “Angel, I once slept for at least a few decadessss. Yeah, pretty sure that’s a real memory.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale. “How lonely.” She looked at the snake with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s—” 

Crowley slipped his head along the angel’s shoulder, back to the warmth of her neck. “Probably wasssss.”

“I wonder,” Aziraphale mused, pushing her hand a little closer to the door. “Well, look at that.”

“What?”

Aziraphale smiled a little self-consciously. “The, ah, anti-angel wards don’t apply to me. See?” She reached out and touched the door. Crowley’s eyes met hers and something passed there, something warm and rather possessive, but before she could say anything else, the lift down the hall made a grinding sound, and the doors slid open.

“Go,” Crowley said, even before they saw who stepped out, and Aziraphale started toward the stairs. She tried to walk calmly, as if she were in no hurry, letting her heels beat out a steady _clack clack_ against the polished floor. On her shoulder, just underneath the scarf, the very tip of a snake head poked out, looking at what was behind them now.

“Demonsss,” the snake hissed quietly. “Low-level. I can’t feel them at this distance, but I can smell Hell. Let’sss hope they can’t feel you, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply. She had reached the door at the end of the hall, and she ducked through it, into the stairwell. Her shoes made an even louder clacking noise on the steps.

“Don’t use a miracle,” Crowley said, a little louder now. “They’ll sense it.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, my dear,” Aziraphale answered, still descending in an unhurried manner. They had gone down two floors when the stair door above them opened. The rhythm of the angel’s shoes fell off beat. She could feel the tension in the snake coiled around her neck, and her hands started to shake.

Well, if she couldn’t hide her nervousness, maybe she could use it. Aziraphale put a hand up to her ear as if she were attaching an ear piece. She’d seen people on the street do it before, and she mimicked the movement. She leaned against the wall and her voice cut into the stairwell. “Hello? Hey! I was just visiting Jane—” Her voice fell low. “What? What happened? Where are you?” She paused for a second. “Which hospital? No, no, I’m coming, just—just tell him I’ll be there as soon—” Her voice cut off into a sob and Aziraphale started to run down the stairs. With every step, she and her angelic aura got farther away from the demons at the top.

When they cleared the building, Aziraphale kept hurrying in case they might be watching. After a couple of blocks, she slowed and leaned up against a building. Her heart was pounding and her breaths were shaky.

A snake head poked out from under her bow. “I sincerely hope,” he said quietly, “that I have spent the last 6000 years telling you how clever you are.”

oOo

They didn’t go back to the bookshop. Aziraphale, in his customary male-presenting form again, but still with a red scarf around his neck, miracled them to Dublin, to a hotel where he’d stayed before when making the rounds of used book stores. It would hopefully be a good enough cover if anyone noticed that he’d gone on a trip.

When the door to their room had locked behind them, Aziraphale unwound the snake from his neck and set him on the bed. Still nervous, he went to close the blinds on the windows, peeking out as he did. Fortunately, he didn’t see anything suspicious.

“Uh, angel,” Crowley said, in a stilted voice.

“Yes?”

“Uh, it’s just, in this room, there’s only the one—” He stopped talking and Aziraphale looked at him curiously. Recognition seemed to dawn on Crowley’s serpentine face. “You don’t sleep, do you?” he asked.

“No, never really took to it,” Aziraphale said absently. “My dear, I’ve been thinking. I may be able to heal your wound just enough to let you change form without removing its protective camouflage. However, the shift wouldn’t be very comfortable for you, and there is a risk—”

“We should try it,” Crowley said immediately. “I don’t care if it hurts, and you can always re-smite me if necessary.”

Aziraphale laughed nervously. “Well, yes. I suppose.”

Aziraphale found out a couple of things in the next few minutes, as he pulled just enough holy energy out of the wound to allow Crowley to change. The first was that the wound that had been on Crowley’s tail appeared on the calf of his left leg. That was definitely better than it could have been. The second thing was that, fortunately, the shift went reasonably well, and Crowley’s soft, loose trousers meant that the wound didn’t hurt him too much after the change had taken place. The third was that he, the Principality Aziraphale, former Guard of the Eastern Gate, thought that the demon Crowley’s human form was hot as hell, and not in the literal sense.

Aziraphale hadn’t expected the red hair. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, really, except that he’d had a strong feeling that Anthony J. Crowley as a human was going to be rather inconveniently attractive. And in fact, Crowley was _lovely._ He had a long, lean frame that was somewhat hidden behind cream-colored trousers in a rather outdated style, with a waistcoat and jacket and even a bow tie in a pretty blue tartan pattern. His scarlet hair was cut short and fell becomingly toward his eyes. He didn’t look demonic, not even with his eyes unchanged from snake form, bright yellow with vertical pupils. He was beautiful, and somehow hauntingly familiar, and... _necessary._

“So,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale nearly jumped as he heard Crowley’s human voice for the first time, and he dragged his gaze back up to Crowley’s eyes. “So,” he echoed.

Crowley had just the faintest smirk on his face, but he just said, “So we need a plan. A way to hide ourselves from Heaven and Hell so that we can get our memories back. Assuming we can even figure out how to do that.”

“Well, that I imagine would be a simple reversal spell, based on what sigils are on our bodies,” Aziraphale said. “It’s probably not too complicated. I think the point was that we were never supposed to realize the sigils were there.”

Crowley flopped down on the bed, looking casual and a little rumpled, rather like someone’s idea of an overly sexy librarian (or at least, Aziraphale’s idea of an overly sexy librarian). Aziraphale made himself sit in the desk chair, across the room from Crowley.

“Are you hungry?” Crowley asked.

“No,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t eat much. But we could definitely call room service if you’d like something, my dear.”

“That sounds wonderful. Some sort of dessert, maybe.”

Over strawberry shortcake (of which Aziraphale took one bite), they discussed the plan. And got nowhere.

“What we need,” said Aziraphale, “is a disguise. But better than the nanny.”

“I liked the nanny,” Crowley said, with a kind of salacious grin that seemed to suit him perfectly.

Aziraphale felt his face color a little. “Yes, well. But we need something that will disguise us completely, not just outwardly. Something to change us so that we could walk right into Heaven or Hell and they wouldn’t know us.”

Crowley had finished the strawberry shortcake and was licking the last bit of cream from the spoon. Aziraphale was mesmerized watching him, until Crowley suddenly said, “Iguanas.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. “Yes?” he asked.

“Why iguanas?”

“Well, we said that they were kind of a middle ground, didn’t we? Close enough to snakes, but not actually snakes—”

“Exactly.” Crowley pointed the now-clean spoon at Aziraphale. “Now, me, I’m a snake. Not an iguana.”

“My dear—”

“Shut it,” Crowley said, rather kindly. “It’s my turn to be clever. Because Heaven and Hell, they’re looking for a snake, right? Not an iguana. So what if _I—”_ he looked rather proud at this moment— “was an iguana?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“It’s brilliant,” Crowley informed him.

“How did you get to be a snake?” Aziraphale asked.

“It was assigned to me when I Fell.” 

“Can you just— _reassign_ yourself?”

“Well, you’re the bookshop owner, you’ve got to have a book about that somewhere, right?”

“A book about demons changing their animal familiars?” Aziraphale asked. “Not specifically, no. But maybe—” He stood up, pacing the room as if he were walking the shelves of the shop. He put out a hand into the air occasionally, and drew a book into it.

“Huh,” Crowley said. “You do have a filing system.”

Aziraphale shot him a glare, and Crowley looked entirely too pleased about it. In fact, he looked rather pleased in general, his golden eyes following Aziraphale’s movements with nearly the same look he’d given the strawberry shortcake.

Aziraphale distracted himself from temptation (or rather, Temptation, if he guessed correctly as to what Crowley had been doing in Eden) by starting his research. “You know,” he said, about twenty minutes later, looking up to find Crowley half-asleep on the bed, “I think we might be able to do it.”

Crowley sat up slowly, yawning, and stretching. Aziraphale watched with rapt attention as his shirt pulled just a little out of his trousers. “Told you,” Crowley said. 

“You’ll be different,” Aziraphale cautioned.

“Too different?”

“Well, maybe not any more than you are now, without your memories.” Aziraphale let his eyes continue to travel the demon’s body in what was now a well-practiced route. “In any case, my dear,” he said softly, “I think it’s become rather obvious that you and I would know each other in any form.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and then Crowley gave him a bit of a smile. “So that takes care of me, then. What about you, angel?”

“Well, I suppose I should follow suit.”

“Angels can’t have animal forms, though.”

“Demons can.” Aziraphale stopped, experiencing a strange sense of deja vu. “I mean,” he said, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for me, we’re the same stock, after all. I’ll just need to pick an animal—let’s see, what shall I be? An aardvark?”

They exchanged a confused look, as Crowley apparently shared the odd feeling of recognition this time. 

But Crowley said, “You should be a snake. We’re taking it away from me, right? Seems easiest to just pass on the snake to you. I mean, I think it would work. I can’t quite remember where I heard it, but isn’t it possible for a demon and angel to sort of, change places or something? Like switch bodies or essences—”

“Yes, I’ve read that too,” Aziraphale said, frowning as he tried to remember. “Somewhere.”

“Should be simple, then. We’ll still be an angel and a demon, but nowhere on anybody’s list. Anonymous.”

“Anonymous,” Aziraphale echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

“But even assuming my clever plan works, angel, we still have another problem. If we just up and disappear, they’ll come looking for us.”

Aziraphale perched on the edge of the desk. “We need to die, my dear.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Crowley said, in a silky voice. Aziraphale was learning (or re-learning, presumably) that Crowley had a terribly mesmerizing way of talking, where he would tilt his head about but leave his golden eyes fixed right on yours. If Aziraphale had really had this demon hanging about for the last 6000 years, he was surprised he’d gotten anything done.

“We’ll need a couple of dead bodies,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s less romantic.”

“The reality always is,” Aziraphale answered. “So where do we find bodies?”

Crowley looked confused. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re—well, you _are_ a demon,” Aziraphale said, less sure of his point now that he had to explain it.

Crowley gave him an indignant look. “Well, I don’t know where to get them, so if I’ve done any body snatching in the past, I must have done it with _you.”_

Aziraphale scowled at him. “We’ll come back to that then. So the plan is that if a piece of you can be in a flat in Mayfair, then you can also be in a body in my bookshop. We just need to get a couple of bodies of the right size and shape, give them a little of ourselves—our old selves, that is, you as a snake and me as, ah, _not_ a snake—and then burn—”

“No fires,” Crowley objected immediately.

“Why not?”

“Don’t know,” he admitted. “But no fires.”

“My dear, we’ll need to burn the bodies to conceal as much evidence as we can.” Aziraphale stood up and came closer, feeling a strong compassion now, as Crowley seemed a bit agitated. “It will be all right. It won’t be us. And then—we’ll be free.”

But when Aziraphale went to sit down on the bed beside him, Crowley got up. “Look, about that—” He ran a hand through his scarlet hair, mussing it delightfully. “I just—I know we’re friends, Aziraphale, but you are an angel, and I’m a demon. Don’t you—don’t you care at all what Heaven would think—”

“Heaven wants to take you from me.” Aziraphale sat down on the bed alone. “You know that Gabriel scares me. Heaven would hardly invent that, it has to be real.”

Crowley frowned at him. “No offense, angel, but you don’t seem the type to make decisions based on feelings.”

“I’m not,” Aziraphale assured him. “It’s clear that when I was in my right mind, with my memories intact, I chose you. I should hardly second-guess myself now, when I don’t have all the facts. My dear,” he said, more softly, “we would never have set all this up if what we had wasn’t worth fighting for.”

Crowley met his eyes with hunger and hope.

“It’s late,” Aziraphale said. “We can deal with the rest of this tomorrow. Snatching bodies, working spells.”

“The sigils on our bodies.” Crowley looked down at himself and shivered a little. “I want to find those. Where are they, do you think?”

“The usual places are pulse points. So wrists, throats, the insides of elbows and knees, and so on. A little magic should make them visible.”

“Right,” Crowley said. And then he began to unfasten his bow tie. As he tugged his collar aside, he looked up and met Aziraphale’s eyes.

Slowly, Aziraphale crossed the room. His fingers lifted to Crowley’s neck, and when they slid across his bare skin, the demon’s breath caught. Aziraphale whispered something in an old language, and a figure blazed gold against Crowley’s throat. 

“There’s one,” Aziraphale said. He tried to hold still as Crowley’s hand traced across his own throat and when Crowley repeated the words, the angel felt something bright ripple across his skin as well.

Aziraphale’s other hand caught against Crowley’s chest. “They didn’t take everything from us, did they?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley’s voice wavered a little. “No.”

“I’m sure they tried, but this—this must have been too strong.”

Crowley’s hand shifted until his fingers cupped the back of Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale met his eyes again, and felt something inside himself drift up and away from the floor, untethered and free. 

“Were we more than friends, do you think?” Crowley asked.

“We _must_ have been,” Aziraphale breathed, and then he pressed his mouth against Crowley’s.

It was light at first, a brushing of lips, but Aziraphale felt like he’d somehow been waiting for this for 6000 years instead of just the last day, and a desperate noise rose from his throat. Crowley used his hand behind Aziraphale’s head to press them together a little more strongly, and when their mouths opened, the kiss became hot and wet and _wonderful._

Crowley walked them a few steps until he was gently pinning Aziraphale against the wall, holding the angel there with his body, all the sharp angles of it, all the strength and grace of those serpentine limbs. Aziraphale tangled his hands in Crowley’s fiery hair and tugged his mouth to the right angle to kiss him more deeply. Crowley moaned, and when their hips finally figured out (or remembered) where to go and slotted together, Aziraphale could feel that Crowley was just as ravenous for this as he was.

Aziraphale understood it then, that _this_ was the solution to their problem. That the way they would survive this was by being together. By fighting against Heaven and Hell as one, on their own side.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley finally had Aziraphale in his arms, and it was _perfect._ It was everything you would think holding an angel would be. There was such joy and want and love pouring off of Aziraphale that Crowley was instantly addicted. The question of how he’d gotten his life tangled up so closely with an angel’s was answered then. It must have happened the first time they’d kissed, because at that moment, Crowley would have been as sure as he was now. He was in love with Aziraphale. No experience in Heaven, Hell, or on Earth would ever be able to compare to this, because it wasn’t just Crowley _feeling_ all of Aziraphale’s happiness. Crowley was _causing_ it. He was bringing love to a creature made of love. In Aziraphale’s arms, Crowley found the welcome he’d been looking for his entire life.

“Let me make love to you,” he said, as he traced his lips down the line of the angel’s jaw.

“Oh, darling, yes, please,” Aziraphale whispered back, and Crowley maneuvered them somewhat gracelessly toward the room’s single bed. Aziraphale might not sleep, but Crowley was extremely pleased that the angel was going to try out the bed anyhow. 

They shed clothes on the way, tartan and black mixing along the carpeted floor. Aziraphale had some trouble with those tight trousers, and he ended up miracling them away. This was greatly appreciated by Crowley, and he fell to his knees by the bed.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, as Crowley gently turned him around.

Crowley gave a sigh of pleasure. “I’ll see your face when we make love, angel, but right now I really need to spend some time getting to know—well, renewing my acquaintance with—this arse of yours.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Aziraphale complained, but Crowley heard the laughter in it. Crowley leaned Aziraphale over the bed, and then traced his hands slowly up the angel’s legs. There was a little inward curve right at the top of Aziraphale’s thigh just before his arse curved back out again, and Crowley lingered there for a moment before sliding his hands higher, to the fullness of the angel’s arse cheeks, and then inward again toward the small of his back. His hands traced the journey many times, Crowley trying to re-memorize the map of his lover’s body, the beautiful contrasts of him, the flow of him, in and out in perfect curves. 

And he wanted to remember what Aziraphale’s skin tasted like, so he gave the angel a few nips with his teeth along the swell of his arse, and soothed them with his tongue.

Aziraphale, who’d been moaning a little, squeaked. “I thought you said you weren’t going to bite me again.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, his voice muffled against Aziraphale’s body. “Guess I lied. I’m a demon, after all, I’m supposed to lie to angels.”

Aziraphale seemed like he was going to answer that, but all Crowley got was a louder sort of moaning noise as Crowley bit him a little harder. Not enough to break the skin, of course, just enough to show his appreciation.

“Is it all right if I use my fingers?” he asked, and Aziraphale managed to convey his assent. Crowley miraculously slicked up a couple of his fingers and pulled the angel’s arse cheeks apart, circling his hole and then sliding one finger in.

Aziraphale made a very loud, very pleasurable noise, and at that point, Crowley had to stop for a moment to get control of himself. His cock was rock hard and leaking, and just imagining sliding it in where his fingers were was quite enough to shake him, even without Aziraphale giving such encouragements.

By the time Crowley added a second and then third finger, Aziraphale was panting, and when Crowley scissored them, rubbing against Aziraphale’s prostate, the angel cried out. “Stop, Crowley, please, or I’m going to come. You have to—I want you to—”

Crowley gently removed his fingers, and after slowly tracing his mouth over the angel’s arse one more time, he stood and helped Aziraphale climb onto the bed. The angel lay on his back and welcomed Crowley between his legs. For a little while, Crowley paid his attentions to Aziraphale’s cock, which was flushed and clearly aching, pressing gentle kisses against it, exploring the hardness of the angel now, instead of his softness. When Aziraphale started to beg again, Crowley gently folded the angel’s legs up and sank into him in one smooth push.

“Oh, fucking Heaven,” Aziraphale gasped.

Crowley looked down at him in delighted surprise. “Angels swear?”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him close. “You’re worth it, darling,” he whispered.

Crowley pressed kisses along Aziraphale’s jawline and ran a gentle hand through his beautiful golden curls, damp now with sweat. “Are you ready for me to move?”

Aziraphale nodded, and closed his eyes in pleasure as Crowley slid himself partially out and then back in again. It was maddening, mesmerizing, the slick slide of Crowley’s cock inside of Aziraphale, the burning heat of him. It made Crowley feel possessive in a way he hadn’t expected, almost as if they really hadn’t done this before, as if this was the first time Crowley had been allowed to make love to this angel. In any case, now that Crowley knew what it was to be welcomed inside Aziraphale’s body, he never wanted to be anywhere else.

As they moved, Aziraphale continued to show off a bit more of his unexpected vulgar vocabulary, and eventually he crossed his legs behind Crowley’s back, urging him forward, keeping him close.

Crowley groaned and laid his forehead against Aziraphale’s chest, on the soft strands of blond hair. “Angel, I realize this isn’t our first time, but my mind doesn’t know any better, so I’m not going to last long here.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aziraphale panted out, “because I’m not either. Darling, would you mind?”

Crowley most certainly did not mind, and he eagerly slid a hand between them to gently grasp Aziraphale’s cock, which was molten heat in his hand and slick with precome.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ the angel said, and his body tightened around Crowley and that was quite the end of both of them.

Aziraphale spurted over Crowley’s fingers, painting their stomachs with wet heat. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hip with his free hand, holding the angel tightly as his cock pumped his release inside of the most beautiful being he’d ever seen.

When they’d quieted, Aziraphale said, “Oh, fuck,” again and Crowley kissed him with all the love in his heart.

oOo

illustration: [Turns out Aziraphale does sleep when the conditions are right](https://thejanewestin.tumblr.com/post/187595585237/turns-out-aziraphale-does-sleep-when-the) by Jane Westin

As it turned out, Aziraphale did sleep, if the conditions were right. Crowley had miracled up a tartan blanket, wrapped it securely around the angel, and tugged him into his arms. Crowley had slept a little, but as morning dawned, it was far more pleasurable to him to be awake and aware that he was holding his sleeping lover in his arms.

It was the trust, more than the love that stunned him. Knowing an angel loved him was something that Crowley could begin to understand: they had obviously shared a long relationship. They’d no doubt been friends first and lovers later, and they were quite clearly good for each other: supportive, protective, caring. Crowley couldn’t imagine not having fallen in love with Aziraphale, given how wonderful he was, how beautiful inside and out, how clever, how kind. Obviously they had great physical chemistry. Angels and demons weren’t immune to love or lust, and this was probably a natural outcome to a 6000-year acquaintance.

But _trust,_ that was something else. You could banter with a friend, you could flirt with a lover, and still have your guard up a little, but for an angel to actually fall asleep in the arms of a demon, leaving himself entirely defenseless, that was incredible. And it had been no different for Crowley, a wounded demon in the shape of a snake, delivered to the door of an angel who wouldn’t recognize him.

This, Crowley realized, was what had been worth fighting for. This was why they had tried to stop the final war—because he and Aziraphale, hereditary enemies, had found the peace that trust could bring.

Eventually, Aziraphale stirred. He smiled sleepily when he saw Crowley and Crowley’s heart sped right up, as he was learning it always did when Aziraphale smiled. 

They made love again, more quietly this time, the angel saying, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t remember how you like this, dear,” before taking Crowley’s cock in his mouth. Crowley figured the lost memory didn’t matter much, since he would no doubt enjoy just about anything having to do with his cock and Aziraphale’s mouth.

Afterwards, Crowley returned the favor, and since Aziraphale was still opened a little from the night before, he was able to use his fingers as well. Aziraphale swore some more and Crowley laughed at him for it, and then they kissed for a while, and then finally, reluctantly, left the bed.

They finalized plans over breakfast, of which Crowley ate quite a lot, and Aziraphale had to be persuaded to have half a piece of toast with jam. Crowley wondered how many breakfasts they’d shared over the millennia, how many more they would share when this was over. Eternity seemed a different concept when viewed from the position of a person in love. It went from being _forever_ to being _just long enough._

Getting the bodies turned out to be the trickiest part of the whole thing, to neither of their surprise. Aziraphale insisted that they use bodies which had been buried, because then their families wouldn’t notice them missing. And he fretted about not being able to ask the departed souls for permission, but Crowley reminded him that the bodies were nothing but empty shells now, and weren’t going to last forever anyway. And so with little other choice, they skimmed obituaries in London for pictures of people who looked something like themselves, wandered through a couple of graveyards, and then miracled back to the book shop two recently dead bodies.

It was at that point that Crowley got truly creeped out, and now Aziraphale was the calmer one, covering the bodies with blankets and treating them with as much dignity as he could. “After all,” he said, “we did stop Armageddon. We’re not exactly minor league players, are we, my dear? Surely we can handle this.” 

Aziraphale put his hand on one body and had Crowley do the same to the other, and then Aziraphale said an incantation and Crowley felt a little bit of him get torn away and pass into the body. He took his hand away from it as soon as he could.

All the miracles were going to be a problem, of course. It was going to take a lot of magic to pull this off, and so they’d warded the bookshop as best they could to dampen the signs of supernatural deeds going on inside. Aziraphale had also put up anti-angel and anti-demon wards in case Gabriel or any demons decided to stop by before they were ready.

And then they were ready, and there was nothing else to do but put their trust in the plan and put the plan into motion.

“All right,” Aziraphale said, dusting off his hands as if he’d just done something dusty, which he hadn’t, “it’s time for the new us. You’re sure you still want to be a lizard, dear?”

“Looking forward to it, angel.”

Aziraphale opened the right books, and drew the right sigils on the bookshop floor with the right chalk, making two circles. He brought out the iguanas Freddie and Mercury in their travel cages, and they supervised the goings-on with disinterested faces.

Aziraphale directed Crowley into one chalk circle and then stepped into the other. “We’ll take the snake from you first and give it to me,” he said, “and then we’ll ask Freddie and Mercury to contribute just a touch to you. Won’t hurt them, of course.” He looked at Crowley, his expression determined and a little scared. “Let’s do this nice and slow, so we can avoid mistakes.”

“Like what kind of mistakes?” Crowley asked. “You turning into an aardvark after all?”

“Shut it,” Aziraphale growled, but at least he smiled. Then he snapped his fingers and the sigils came to life. 

As the spell began, an odd feeling came over Crowley. He shivered a little with it, and sneezed a couple of times. At one point, he felt larger than he usually was, and at the next, far smaller. “It’s like being Alice in Wonderland,” he complained. And then he felt the serpentine essence leave him. He watched Aziraphale’s body draw it in, watched Aziraphale change. 

The blond hair was the first to go. It turned dark and then lost its curls, flowing out in gentle waves down around Aziraphale’s shoulders and then even farther down his back. The angel’s body grew taller, just a little, but it didn’t thin out any. In fact, it grew in certain places and tucked in close in others, and Crowley realized that the angel was starting to present female. She turned to look at Crowley with a face that was rather more oval than it had been, and eyes that had gone bright green, with vertical pupils.

When she seemed to have stabilized, she waved a hand and a mirror appeared in front of her. It was nice to see Aziraphale smile at her new self. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Crowley told her softly. “You need some new clothes, though.” 

“Right,” Aziraphale said, in a slightly higher tone than she’d had before. She snapped her fingers and then instead of the now ill-fitting shirt and trousers, she wore a black dress with a calf-length skirt. Her dark hair wound itself around her head in a braid, and with it up, Crowley could see the little snake tattoo that now graced her cheek.

“Do I sssseem different to you?” she asked, and then her eyes widened. “Oh, that’sss new.”

Crowley grinned. “You’ll get used to it. And yes. You’re more different than Nanny was. But I still know you. Well, as much as I can right now without remembering you.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, and Crowley was fast coming to appreciate just how lovely those smiles looked on Aziraphale’s new face.

Crowley braced himself for his turn, and as Aziraphale said the incantation, both iguanas rattled their tails just for a second, before calming down and getting back to looking bored again. Crowley felt this new thing creep into him softly and gently, but it was a strange sensation nonetheless. He sneezed a couple more times, and then heard Aziraphale say, “Oh,” very appreciatively.

Crowley looked into the mirror. He was taller now too, maybe a couple of inches, and not as slender. He was still presenting male, though. His shoulders were broader and his middle definitely thicker. The red hair had faded to more of an auburn with red highlights, and it had a wave to it that would probably turn to curls if he grew it out. It was a nice color with his cream and tartan clothes. Most noticeably, the snake tattoo was gone and in its place a few green scales marked the skin around Crowley’s ears. He might have to grow his hair out to hide those. 

But his eyes—they were no longer golden and serpentine, but dark brown with round pupils. There would be no need for sunglasses now. He’d have to give them all to Aziraphale.

“How did I do?” Crowley asked.

“You are a gift to this earth,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley snorted out a laugh. “All right, let’s not get carried away. At least, not if we’re not headed back to bed.”

Aziraphale ducked her head with a bit of a blush and waved her hand. The sigils fell dark again. Then it was most of the afternoon and evening’s work to get the rest of it settled.

Crowley got online and found a cottage for sale in the South Downs. It quickly sold, with the paperwork put through immediately. This while Aziraphale was doing nothing but pacing the bookshop, fretting about what books to leave and which to take, because if they took too many, Heaven and Hell might notice…

Crowley stopped her with a kiss to her mouth and one to her nose as well. She really had the most adorable little nose now. “I’m going to be clever again,” he told her. “Why don’t you do to the books what you did to us? Change their bodies. Put the actual books in the cottage, all of them, we’ll make extra rooms if we need. Fill this place up with encyclopedias and dictionaries and high school math textbooks that only look like your books on the outside.”

Aziraphale kissed him back. For a while.

The switching of the books took an hour or so, and then Aziraphale uncovered the bodies and laid them on the floor. “It will look like the spell we did to get our memories back went wrong,” Aziraphale explained. “And hopefully, that—that will be the end of it, my dear.”

For this last, most important part, Crowley and Aziraphale stood in the same circle of chalk. It probably wasn’t necessary, but Crowley wanted to hold Aziraphale’s hand, and she certainly didn’t object.

First, Aziraphale pulled the rest of the holy energy out of Crowley’s wound, and then she waved her hand and the sigils on their necks began to glow. Crowley saw them on the backs of Aziraphale’s knees as well, when her skirt moved against her legs.

Crowley squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?” he asked. “We could stay like this. If we don’t reverse the sigils, it might take weeks for Heaven and Hell to notice we’ve died in a bookshop fire. But as soon as we do reverse their spell, they’ll come after us. The wards on the shop will give us a little while, but—”

Aziraphale looked up at him with beautiful serpentine eyes. “I want to know our story,” she said.

Crowley nodded. “So do I.”

Aziraphale recited the spell, and Crowley closed his eyes against the rush of it. It was even more disorienting than he had during the snake and lizard part.

The very first thing Crowley felt was gratitude, realizing that he did have his memories back intact. That feeling faded, dropping down, growing colder, heavier, and more terrifying every moment as he got a good look at what their story had actually been.

An angel on the Gate of Eden, smiling at him, protecting him from the rain. Chance meetings for a few centuries, and then planned ones, bickering, laughing, drinking, trading insults that grew less charged over time. And not terribly far into their acquaintance, Crowley finding that he was desperate to take a step closer to Aziraphale as often as he could, forging a path that led out of loneliness and despair to love and acceptance.

And Aziraphale, ever stepping farther away. Aziraphale always choosing Heaven over a demon.

A fight over holy water. A moment of forgiveness with a tartan flask passing from Aziraphale’s hands to Crowley’s, but Crowley still being denied as firmly as Aziraphale could.

Learning that a spell from Heaven and Hell was going to separate them, trying desperately to prepare for it. The wound Aziraphale had given Crowley had hurt far less than knowing he was going to lose the angel from his memories.

But he'd never completely had Aziraphale to begin with.

The world had nearly ended. They’d saved it. But Crowley still hadn’t been given a chance to say the right words, to do the right things. To kiss the angel, even once, just a brush of lips, just for a second. In 6000 years, Aziraphale had barely touched him.

Aziraphale, who’d woken naked in his arms this morning.

Aziraphale, who’d said _You go too fast for me._

Aziraphale who was holding his hand right now.

Until she wasn’t. Crowley felt Aziraphale let go of him and it was the heaviest, most crushing thing he’d ever felt. 

She looked at him with green eyes gone wide with disbelief and fear. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, no.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was a beautiful thing, at first, for Aziraphale to be able to realize that she had, in fact, lived a lovely life. That she hadn’t really been alone, not ever, not in Eden and not anytime since.

But when she’d looked more closely, she could see that she hadn’t always been happy. Aziraphale watched her life parade by with a growing sense of dread, realizing that Crowley was at once her strongest joy and sharpest shame.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, no.” She dropped his hand. Her legs seemed like they might give out, so she stepped back toward the bookshop couch and sank into it.

Crowley was there immediately, on his knees, not touching her, of course, not now, not anymore, but looking at her with intense concern. “Are you all right?” he asked, because he always did. 

He’d always cared for her, and she’d known it, she’d known in the Bastille, in the church in 1941. She’d known long before that, in so many places, so many times. Crowley had been there when she’d needed him, always strong, always faithful. Always wanting what Aziraphale would not give.

Last night, Crowley had given Aziraphale more than she had ever hoped for. Love, joy, intimacy. Aziraphale found her hands shaking now, wanting to reach out to him, wanting to renew the touch that they’d shared, a touch that had seemed to cost nothing, like it was just that easy, like touching Crowley had never been more than a matter of crossing the empty space between them.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until—

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice broke. _“I’m_ sorry. I should never have—” 

“Stop,” Aziraphale said. And just like every time she’d said it, Crowley obeyed. 

But this time, Aziraphale kept going. “Crowley,” she said, as bravely as she could, “I have been hopelessly in love with you for at least 4000 years.”

Crowley froze. His eyes, brown now, but still so clearly Crowley, stared at her as his face paled.

Aziraphale choked back a sob. “We were always just a disaster waiting to happen, weren’t we, you and I? We’re completely star-crossed. Hereditary enemies. But I couldn’t help wanting you. You’re so wonderful, and I know you don’t want to hear that, but you are, you’re funny and you’re so clever, and you—”

Aziraphale was crying now. “Oh, _look_ at us. I’m wearing your clothes and you’re wearing mine. I named the iguanas for bloody Freddie Mercury. You’ve been eating desserts, and I’ve not been hungry. I was—I was Nanny Ashtoreth!” She wiped at her eyes. “When they tore us apart, we must have tried so hard to hold onto each other, and this was the only way we could. Crowley, _we were in love.”_ Her heart nearly broke with the pain of it, the guilt. “And I can’t imagine whatever could have been so important that I didn’t tell you before.”

“Our lives,” Crowley said softly, and he reached up and took Aziraphale’s hands in his own, and then they were touching again, they were touching, and it struck Aziraphale almost painfully to realize that neither of them was going to pull away. “You were protecting us,” Crowley told her. “Because look what they did. They tried to kill us, and when they couldn’t, they stole our memories.”

“But we could have done this before. We could have had this ages ago, if I’d been brave enough—”

“All I care,” Crowley said, “is that you’re ready now. If—if you are.”

“I think we had it right,” Aziraphale whispered. “Yesterday. Last night. I think we finally—we had it right.” 

Aziraphale drew Crowley up to sit beside her on the couch, and then she touched him, tracing a hand over his new face. “We’ll have to get to know each other one more time,” she said softly. “And—and I think we should start with a real first kiss. Last night, we didn’t know that it was our first. But now—”

Crowley slid his hands across Aziraphale’s cheeks, and gently brought her mouth against his.

This time, it was a soft kiss all the way through, no matter how deep and slow or how fast and passionate it got. It was a kiss of love and caring and admiration, the kind that only people who have been in love for a very long time can give each other. It was not just _I love you,_ but also _I trust you,_ and _I know you._

oOo

The last thing Aziraphale did was to set her shop on fire, using a miracle to make sure it wouldn’t harm surrounding buildings. It hurt to see the place burn, and she grieved for it, as it had been a home to her for so long. But her books and treasures weren’t found there now. It was just an empty place, a shell. One more body whose soul was moving on into a new life.

Crowley wasn’t there for the fire. They knew now that it would be too much for him. He waited down the block, far enough not to hear the sirens or smell the smoke.

Aziraphale joined him, and they hailed a taxi, just an anonymous couple and their two iguanas. The woman wore a pretty blue dress with white embroidery, and the man tight black trousers and a loose red shirt. They also had matching wedding bands.

As they settled in, the woman turned to her husband. “I’ve missed your tight trousers, dear.”

“Oh, believe me,” he answered her. “You’ll be wearing a pair yourself.”

Aziraphale settled back into the seat with a bit of a flush to her cheeks.

“You know, there’s one thing I still don’t get,” Crowley said. 

“What’s that, dear?”

“The thing is, angel, there is absolutely no way that Heaven and Hell were going to walk into that mess of a shop and find anything. You could probably have left a poster in bright red ink on your wall that said _Gabriel is a wanker_ and he wouldn’t have noticed. There was no reason that the message you left yourself had to be at all complicated. You just did the cipher thing for fun.”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “It was not complicated! I broke it in a night. If anything, it was too obvious, with the note saying ‘Safeguard.’ Practically gave the whole thing away right there.”

Crowley snorted. “To you, maybe.”

“Well, as you’ve said, I am clever,” Aziraphale said, with a touch of pride.

“Did I say that?” Crowley asked. “Funny, I don’t seem to remember.”

“You should watch out,” Aziraphale warned. “I bite now, you know.”

But in response to this, Crowley just gave her his Temptation grin, the expression somehow new on this unfamiliar face, and yet so very, very old.

“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “Which is why you’re provoking me.”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, tilting his head the way he always did. “You know me so well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, Jane, for your beautiful art! I hope you enjoyed the fic! <3  
>   
> And there we have it, the most convoluted way to get a love confession out of Aziraphale. I had been wanting to write a “their punishment is forgetting each other” fic for a while, so this seemed like my chance. And I'm glad to have done the Ineffable Husbands Week thing, because the “body” prompt really influenced how this fic came out. 
> 
> I have also so enjoyed reading all the theories on this fic from my wonderful readers. It was great to see that a couple of people guessed right, that the switching of clothes, etc, was just for reasons of pure romance, Aziraphale and Crowley trying to hold onto each other in some way during the trauma of the memory wipe. But the other theories are all so interesting! For example, I loved the idea of them storing part of both of them in each of their bodies for various reasons, as well as the idea that the memories were stolen during the body swap, while Aziraphale & Crowley were still in the wrong bodies. I would LOVE to read those! So if anybody wants to try those out, feel free to use any of the plot/set-up in this fic for whatever you like. Just be sure you let me know so I can read it!  
>   
> Here is a list that no one asked for of all the “body” tie ins, and I may have missed some.  
> 1\. Crowley is stuck in a snake body at the beginning  
> 2\. The memory spell is done with sigils on their bodies  
> 3\. Aziraphale changes into “Nanny”  
> 4\. Crowley gets his human body back  
> 5\. A bit of body-worship sex  
> 6\. Body-snatching!  
> 7\. Putting their essences into stolen bodies  
> 8\. Aziraphale and Crowley undergo major body alterations, both cosmetic and internal  
> 9\. And the books get to swap bodies as well

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so appreciated! And please feel free to check out my other works.  
> I am now taking fic requests for your original characters!  
> Find me on tumblr [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holycatsandrabbits)  
> Twitter [@DannyeChase](https://twitter.com/DannyeChase)  
> Facebook [Dannye Chase](https://facebook.com/DannyeChase)  
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